


I don't remember much about the day after she died. (Or, an unorganized grief induced writing fest)

by carabc03



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Death, Depressing, Depression, Drabble, Grief, Loss, Mourning, Sad, dealing with death, i don't know why i published this, thoughts, unorganized grief drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-07 23:50:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11069652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carabc03/pseuds/carabc03
Summary: "The thing is, there’s a limit on how long you're allowed to mourn. The first month, everyone is consoling and accommodating and so very sorry for your loss, and they express their utmost sympathy with homemade casseroles and get well cards. But after that, people just sort of… forget. They stop caring."I don't really know why I'm publishing this, but I feel like I should do something with it even though it's just a short grief induced drabble that's been sitting in my drive for god knows how long. It's basically just a series of thoughts I have about mourning. If you're reading this looking for advice about how to get over a death, that's not what this is. I'm sorry, both for your loss and the fact that this won't help. But maybe you can relate to some of these feelings? I don't know. Maybe not. Maybe I'm just insane and my reactions to death are abnormal and anyone else to read this will be confused and horrified by my thoughts. I honestly have no idea. But I thought I'd share because maybe other people have felt this way or had the same ideas. Either way, I just felt the need to get it out. I hope this makes even the slightest shred of sense, and I sincerely thank you for reading. Much love.





	I don't remember much about the day after she died. (Or, an unorganized grief induced writing fest)

The day after she died, I don't remember much. I don't know what I did, really, other than cry - although I do distantly remember eating Subway. I have no idea what I got, (or rather, what my dad got for me), but then again the vegetarian options there aren't particularly plentiful so there isn't exactly a wide range of options. Speaking of eating Subway, I remember being absurdly offended by my body’s basic needs- it was refusing to shut down and just mourn like I was. It still insisted on needing food and water and the bathroom, and it had struck me as horribly inappropriate at the time. I was so absorbed in my grief, something as mundane as needing to pee felt like an intrusion. I also remember it was a lovely day, and that made it so much worse than it ever could have been. I was so angry at the sun for having the nerve to shine so brightly and beautifully when she, the one that deserved it most, would never feel its warmth again. The thing is, she wasn't like me. She didn't take those things for granted. I remember looking through some old pictures and memories of us together and sobbing so hard I felt like I would never stop, sobbing until my throat was raw and my shirt had drops on it from the tears that had fallen persistently ever since it had registered that she was gone.

That first day without her was the worst of it.

It got easier over time. Easier isn't the same as easy, mind you. It was still hard. I would spend hours just staring at the wall, my mind so blank and horrified by the fact that _jesus christ she's actually gone how can she be gone? How can a person just stop existing in a second? How the hell did this happen? How can this be real? It can't be it's not real oh my god please just bring her back._

I distinctly remember one day, around three months after she died, I was on my laptop doing something normal and not even thinking about her when suddenly it occurred to me to wonder _oh my god what if she’s decomposed by now_ and I threw up and didn't stop crying for days.

It makes no fucking sense. She didn't deserve it. I feel like people say that all the time, and it seems so obvious, because _of course_ she didn't deserve to die. Of course of course of course, and people say it until it loses its meaning. But it's so true and so _important_ that I'm going to say it again, and I want you to really think about each word, really think about what they mean: She. Didn't. Deserve. It. Nobody does, of course, but her? She was so _good._ She had so much to offer the world and it had so much to offer her. She had so much life and now she has none because of some stupid awful disaster that _she didn't deserve_ and god why does this shit happen?

The thing is, there’s a limit on how long you're allowed to mourn. The first month, everyone is consoling and accommodating and so very sorry for your loss and they express their utmost sympathy in homemade casseroles and get well cards. But after that, people just sort of… forget. They stop caring. They're so transfixed in their own lives they forget that there’s a huge gaping hole in the world that can't ever be replaced, and it seems like they don't even feel it and you hate them all because how can they not? You feel it all the time. You feel her loss so very poignantly it seems to swallow you but- oh a new movie with Halle Berry is coming out and for some reason that's all your next door neighbor can talk about and _how can they not see that you're drowning?_

 

There's no conclusion to this. There's no nice, neat ending. There's not even anything that sounds vaguely final to finish it up, except for this, which is more of a disclaimer than anything else. I'm sorry if you were expecting something more out of this, and I know it's not great writing and it's not helping anyone and it doesn't even really make sense but it's honest and that's all I know how to give.


End file.
